


my heart is gold and my hands are cold

by quinnking



Category: UnREAL (TV)
Genre: Depression, F/F, Fucked Up Relationship, Nightmares, co dependency, jeremy's a dick, quinn smells good, rachel can't help but pine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinnking/pseuds/quinnking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing is out of place here, except for Rachel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart is gold and my hands are cold

**Author's Note:**

> i'm deadass sure gasoline was written about rachel goldberg.
> 
> so, this is somewhat of a character study. i headcanon that rachel is her most comfortable w quinn because she's not hiding so thus... this was made. i don't know when this should be set, but from spoilers, i'm betting after this season is done.

_you can't wake up, this is not a dream; you're part of a machine, you are not a human being_

* * *

Everything follows her in her sleep. Jeremy's hatred, her mother's disappointment, Adam's abandonment, Quinn's words. Not even alcohol dazed stupors can help her escape the voices of everyone around her. 

Somewhere along the way she's found herself solace in Quinn's office. She fell asleep there one night and ever since, she's tried her hardest to get her good nights sleep on her couch. 

That is, until, she feels fingers poking at her shoulder. 

"Wake up, Goldberg. You can't sleep on my couch. In my office. Again."

She keeps her eyes closed, because  _damn it,_ she's exhausted and she was actually having a decent sleep.

"I have nowhere else to sleep," she says, instead of telling her that she actually enjoys sleeping on her couch. That the vibe of the room keeps her demons at bay and away from her subconscious. 

She hears Quinn huff and she doesn't dare look up to see the look on her face.

"Come with me." 

Rachel's eyebrows scrunch together. "What?"

"You're going to sleep in a real bed."

Quinn's always been the most confusing of puzzles to Rachel, but right now, she can't even get one piece to fit into another.

"I've slept on couches for half my life, Quinn," she reminds her, tiredly. 

She sees a hand reach down and the first thing her eyes draw to is the tattoo. The same one she has on her very own wrist. Her gaze trails up Quinn's arm before resting on her face. And the emotion she sees, even if it is just for a second before her usual mask is secured, is almost frightening. 

"Okay," she whispers, because not even she can say no to Quinn.

* * *

She's been in Quinn's apartment so many times but it still surprises her how big the place is.

"I'll set up the guest bedroom for you," she says, and leaves Rachel in the foyer. She kicks off her shoes and puts them neatly on the mat. 

Nothing is out of place here, except for Rachel. Everything is prim, proper, elegant, and  _so_ Quinn. Expensive, and it even smells good. And Rachel is messing up even this, just by standing here. 

She doesn't hear Quinn approach so when she comes into her peripherals, she jumps. 

"What drugs are you on, Goldie?" Quinn deadpans, raising her perfectly shaped eyebrows in contempt. 

Rachel doesn't answer her, just keeps watching Quinn as she walks through the room. The walls are light but Quinn is so dark (her hair, her clothes, her expression), a contrast that Rachel just can't look away from. 

"What are you gawking at?" Quinn snaps at her.

"Sorry," Rachel says, automatically, and resents herself for it. "I'm just tired. Out of it." 

Quinn softens her features slightly. Well, as soft as Quinn King can. "The guest room is never used so it's probably dusty and shit, but I'm willing to bet it's better than half the dumps you've slept in." 

Her tone and words almost make Rachel smile. 

"Thank you."

She looks at her feet as she walks into the room and closes the door, leaning against it and taking a deep breath. She locks it, even though she knows Quinn likely won't bother her, and turns off the light. She strips down to her bra and underwear and feels her way to the bed, crawling under the covers.

* * *

Rachel cannot, for the life of her, sleep. Every time she tries something jolts her awake. In her dream, Jeremy has just sliced his final of one hundred cuts into her body, and chanting that no one can ever be hurt by her again. Her skin almost feels like it's actually been pricked.

Her cheeks are hot and wet and she realizes she's crying, on Quinn's pristine bed set. She wipes at her cheeks angrily. 

Rachel's mind wanders to Quinn. Is she sleeping? Is she having nightmares? And then she thinks about how much space Quinn has in her bed, and how much Rachel longs to sleep beside her. Each and every single time she's slept beside or near Quinn, she has almost  _no_ nightmares.

Before she can stop herself, she shuffles out of the room and into Quinn's bedroom. The air is cool and crisp and she notices that Quinn has the window open. The door snicks softly behind her and she tiptoes to Quinn's bed. 

She first debates slipping into bed but Quinn looks so peaceful and so  _beautiful_ that Rachel won't dare wake her. She feels around for the blanket she knows hangs on Quinn's chair, and plucks a throw pillow up along with it.

Rachel gets herself comfortable on the carpeted floor and before she knows it she's completely out of it. The only thing she sees behind her eyelids is black and white and sparks of red in between.

* * *

She comes to when the sun peeks through the blinds of the bedroom and in a moment of panic, Rachel forgets where she is. She sits up and looks around the room before slowly getting up and returning the pillow and blanket to its chair. 

Quinn isn't in bed and just as soon as Rachel starts to wonder where she is and what she should do, the bathroom door opens and Quinn walks out in a towel. Her short hair is wet and curly and sticking to her face.

Rachel's throat is dry and she blames it on the fact that she's just woken up. In no way does it have to do with Quinn being basically naked and wet. 

"Sleeping Beauty is finally awake," Quinn snarks, picking out lingerie to wear under today's power outfit. 

Rachel swallows and turns away as she sees a flash of black lace.

"Why exactly did I find you sleeping on my floor when I have an expensive bed in the guest room?" 

She doesn't need to look at Quinn to know that she has an eyebrow risen in question. 

"The bed was too comfy," Rachel lies. 

"Mmhmm." 

Rachel hears Quinn shuffle toward the closet and the rustle of fabric as she changes. She counts to one hundred before turning and seeing Quinn zipping up the back of her dress. But not before she saw the milky expanse of her skin, and how it was offset by the dark intensity of black. 

"Are you still drunk? I thought you usually sleep that shit off like a champ."

"I wasn't drunk."

Quinn gives her the best  _bitch please_ look she's seen on her in a while. 

"I've been having trouble sleeping." 

"You were dead to the world when I woke up this morning. You were drooling. Cute." 

Without a word, Quinn walks back into the bathroom. Rachel follows, eager to see how Quinn King puts her mask in place. Sure, she's shared hotel rooms with the woman. But she's never seen her full morning routine. She's usually gone first or locked out. 

She leans against the door frame as she watches Quinn fuss with her hair, drying it and straightening the strands into perfection. Makeup is minimal and Rachel finds herself almost entranced at how precisely it's put on. 

"You're acting as if you have  _never_ seen a woman put on makeup, Goldberg," Quinn huffs, slightly annoyed. 

Rachel licks her lips and meets Quinn's glance in the mirror. 

"We've known each other for years and I have never seen you like this," she murmurs, taking note of Quinn's features as she applies powder to her face.

Quinn snaps the compact closed. "Here, you've seen it, so you can wipe that dumbass look off your face. Now shower, you smell like shit." She saunters out of the room and leaves the bathroom to Rachel.

With a sigh, Rachel gets to work and hops in the shower. And honestly, it feels so good. The hot water pricks her skin, like needles, and it wakes her up. She tries not to think about the fact that Quinn was in this very shower just a half hour or so before.

This has, without a doubt, been the weirdest morning she's had in a while.

* * *

Rachel finds that they have been brought into a freaky routine. They're in between seasons right now and Rachel and Quinn get downtime every now and again. She all-but becomes Quinn's roommate. She has a room in her apartment, pays for groceries, has a few things scattered in the kitchen and living area. 

She tries, really hard, to sleep in the spare room at night. But how can she when her nightmares are violent and she wakes up shaking and sweating? She almost always finds herself on the floor of Quinn's bedroom come morning. 

Quinn hasn't asked why she constantly finds Rachel there in the morning, maybe because she doesn't care. Maybe because she knows. She just goes about her morning as she usually would, letting Rachel use her bathroom. Some mornings Rachel will wake up before Quinn and get her coffee, just how she likes it. 

She's wrapped in the sheets of the guestroom and her dream is dark and bloody. Jeremy has Quinn by the hair, a knife to her throat, and Quinn has her bloodied and bruised eyes closed.

"It's all her fault that we aren't together," Jeremy screams and Rachel flinches, "she needs to pay!" 

The knife presses in to Quinn's skin and at the barest sight of red, Rachel feels herself falling and her whole body jolts awake. She's sweat through her her shirt and the bed has stains on it. She'll need to wash that. For now she sleepily gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom. She looks in the mirror, taking in her appearance, and then she's hunched over the toilet, throwing up until her whole body aches.

She barely makes it into Quinn's room, stumbling.

"Get in the bed."

Quinn's raspy voice scares her and Rachel stops dead in her tracks.

"What?"

Quinn moves further on the other side of the bed and flips the duvet almost all the way off the bed, and herself. "Get in."

Rachel swallows thickly and does as she's told, getting comfortable in the bed that's far too large for just the two of them. There's this odd buzzing in her ears and something that flows between them that makes Rachel feel cliche and corny, and she wonders if Quinn feels it too. 

The bed dips and Quinn scoots a bit closer. Rachel doesn't say a word, even as she gets close enough that she can feel Quinn's body heat. She feels the comforter slide over her as Quinn tucks it around her, and then the older woman is returning to her place on the further side of her bed, her back to Rachel.

Rachel takes a deep breath and lays facing Quinn's back. Her mind is slightly at ease now that she knows Quinn is okay and that it was purely a dream. Sleep finds her easy enough and the last thing she remembers is scooting closer to Quinn. 

She wakes up in the morning to find that, surprisingly, Quinn is still in bed. She must've not set an alarm. She's facing Rachel this time, in a stretched out 'C' pose, and her hands are under her cheeks.

Rachel thinks that Quinn looks at ease and stress free, and dare she say it, peaceful. It's a wonderful sight to behold and these thoughts scare Rachel enough that she closes her eyes tight to keep these emotions at bay. To keep herself from doing something stupid, like reaching her hand out to graze her fingers down Quinn's cheek, or tucking that strand of hair behind Quinn's ear, or -

"I can feel you thinking and it's giving me a headache already," Quinn rumbles and Rachel peeks brown one eye open to find a pair of green ones staring back at her.

"Sorry," Rachel says sheepishly, uncomfortable that she's been caught. Are her cheeks flaming? 

Quinn clears her throat and reaches up to her bedside table to take a long sip of water. She takes a moment before swinging her legs over and getting out of bed. She's wearing a slip that's ridden so far up on her thigh that she can see that she's not wearing anything underneath it, and Rachel swears it's some kind of cruel joke, and she buries herself in the covers and hides her face until she's sure Quinn's out of the room.

Rachel rolls onto her stomach and breathes deep, trying not to think of the fact that the sheets and pillow smell like Quinn.

* * *

Rachel and Quinn hardly find time to sleep at Quinn's apartment (theirs, she supposes) anymore, between casting for the show and coming up with brand new ideas for the network so they don't run dry.

So the first time she and Quinn are back in the apartment and she's in Quinn's bed, she has a vivid dream. But not a nightmare, quite the opposite.

In her dream, Quinn is underneath her, head tossed back as Rachel's fingers tease her. She makes soft noises and her hair sticks to her face, she licks her lips, and even in Rachel's dreams, Quinn manages to set Rachel's body on fire. 

Just as Quinn is about to come Rachel's woken up by the sound of a phone ringing.

_Seriously?_

Quinn isn't in the bed anymore, Rachel finds as she opens her eyes, so Rachel figures it must be her phone. It is. Her vision is blurry and she sees on the ID that it's Adam calling her. No. Fuck that. She ignores the call.

She got woken up from the best dream she's had in months because the narcissistic man-doll got lonely? Rachel groans and flops back in the bed, wishing she could ignore the buzz in her body. 

Quinn walks out of the bathroom, fully dressed and makeup all done up, and walks to her closet to pick out her shoes.

"Good dream, Goldie?" she teases, a smirk playing on her features.

It was, Rachel thinks but doesn't say out loud, leaning up on her elbows to watch Quinn gracefully bend to put on her heels. "Why didn't you wake me before you showered? I could have made coffee," she says instead.

"I didn't want to wake you." The implication was simple, and Quinn was clearly enjoying this torment. "Go shower, I'm sure you need it." Rachel meets Quinn's gaze, holding it steady, and fights hard to stay in place until Quinn saunters out of the room to go make coffee.

With a huff, Rachel gets up and sluggishly gets into the shower. The hot water feels like knives on her sensitive skin and she just knows this is going to be a bad day.

She's right. They've begun the casting process and she's working closely with Jay and Madison. She and him have a disagreement and it turns out, Jay has some kind of misconception that Quinn and Rachel are more than they are. And he raves, getting angry that Rachel is getting all the glory and perks when he's been working his ass off for years with no mistakes, all because she's Quinn's new toy. Quinn's Chet and Rachel is Quinn.

Rachel can't help the tears that leave angry streaks down her cheeks or how she immediately falls into a drink.

She knows he's wrong, in a way. Her and Quinn are complicated at best, and even that term is far too simple to describe them. But she's not Quinn's toy. Underneath it all, underneath everything, Rachel knows Quinn cares about her. Loves her. But she also knows that Quinn's soft spot for her and her willingness to do anything keep Rachel by her side is unfair to the crew.

Rachel hopes Quinn won't be angry that she drank all the good vodka in her office and that's her last thought before she passes out on the couch.

She hears a door slam and that's how she wakes up, her eyes watery and her vision fucked. She rubs her eyes furiously and sits up, only to find she has a headache bad enough that her whole upper body is throbbing. She lays back down and closes her eyes.

"You're replacing that, you know," Quinn snaps, pointing at the bottle.

Rachel clenches her jaw because that eases the pain in her head. There's silence for a long time, Rachel can hear papers being flipped.

Until Quinn comes out with, "why does the crew suddenly think we're fucking?"  
Without thinking, Rachel shoots up in a sitting position and cranes her neck to look at Quinn.

"What?"

Before Quinn can even respond, she's up and putting her long hair into a bun, marching out of the office. She heads straight for the control room and pulls Jay up by his collar once she gets to him.

"Why are you telling the crew that Quinn and I are -"

"Whoa, slow down, I'm not," Jay says and the hands on his collar slacken. "I didn't know everyone else knew."

Rachel narrows her eyes. "Jay, this isn't high school. Who told you this shit?"

"Jeremy. At the end of last season we were filming late before the finale. He was bitching when he saw you and Quinn getting in the car together."

Rachel's heart plummets, because of course it was Jeremy. Rachel can't have even this dysfunctional fucking relationship with her boss without Jeremy wanting to fuck it up for her. She sees red.

"That fucking bas-"

"Rachel," Jay murmurs, softly.

Her eyes are hard and she stares up at him.

"About yesterday -"

"Don't worry about it," she says coolly. "But if you ever speak to me that way again it will be the last thing you say on this set."

And then she's stomping back in to Quinn's office, slamming the door so hard the frame rattles.

"That is expensive!" Quinn barks as she drops her pen on her pile of papers.

"Jeremy has been thinking, since before the finale of last season, that we've been fucking. Ranted angrily about it to Jay and God knows who else," Rachel tells Quinn as she plops down on the couch. Her headache has gotten infinitely worse. She sets her elbows on her knees and puts her head in her hands, taking deep breaths.

She hears Quinn's chair slide back and the sound of heels clacking against the floor. The couch dips the slightest bit when Quinn sits and she feels a hand touch her hair and that's enough for her to look at Quinn.

Quinn's fingers find a place under her jaw and she forces Rachel to look at her. Gently. Not like the last time, when her voice and facial expressions were as cruel as her words, not with tears in her eyes.

She wishes others could see this. Then they'd understand.

"Don't let them fuck you up," she says, her voice hard despite the softness of her face. "This place is like high school and it's juvenile but you are their boss, Goldberg. They're going to say demeaning things to you, about you, and you have to tell them to go fuck themselves and do their jobs."

Quinn's face is so close to Rachel's and before she can stop herself, her lips are on Quinn's. She tastes like spearmint, coffee and brandy, and Rachel thinks she's just found her new favourite taste. 

Rachel honestly expects rejection but Quinn opens her mouth for Rachel, and she quickly thrusts her tongue into Quinn's mouth, eager to taste and explore. 

There is  _nothing_ smooth about this kiss, it's all teeth and lips and tongues, and Quinn's hand goes from its home underneath Rachel's jaw into her long hair, tugging ever so slightly and setting Rachel's body aflame.

Rachel pulls away first, breathing heavily, eyes closed. She waits a moment before peeking open one eye to see Quinn's fingers wiping off the residue of lipstick. Her mask is firmly in place and Rachel has no idea what to do.

But they definitely don't talk about it.

* * *

In fact, Rachel avoids Quinn for almost a week. She goes home with her, in the same car, but they don't speak. She doesn't even sleep in her room anymore, she sleeps in the one that has been dubbed hers. And it's torturous. 

Tonight, though, is the worst. By far the worst dream she's ever had and she can't seem to wake herself up.

She's in what seems like an abandoned warehouse and Jeremy had a gun held to Rachel's head. In her own hands, she has a gun as well. Quinn is on her knees in front of both her and Jeremy, her face all bloody and her clothes ripped and torn apart.

"You're going to kill her," Jeremy hisses in her ear. 

Rachel feels someone beside her, someone taller. "Do as he says, Rachel," the voice says, foreign. "She's ruined us. She ruined you. We could have been happy, you and me, but she ruined it for her own selfish reasons." 

"Point the gun at her, Rach," Jeremy orders. Rachel doesn't move. "I said point the fucking gun at her or I'll make her death  _so_ much worse." 

With shaking hands, she lifts the gun and points it at Quinn. 

"Pull the trigger," Adam growls in her ear and she shivers. "She ruined our happy ending. You could have been happy with me, but she ruined it. She lied to me, she lied to you, and she'll do it again." 

"Pull the trigger," Jeremy mimics.

Rachel doesn't move.

"Pull the fucking trigger," they start to say, in a chant, getting progressively louder. 

Quinn closes her eyes and shifts forward so the barrel of the gun touches her forehead and Rachel pulls the trigger, and as soon as the shot sounds she bolts upright and she can hardly breath. Her hair is stuck all around her face and neck and she feels like she may be sick.

She keeps her eyes closed as she tries to even out her breath. She needs Quinn. That's what she needs right now. Screw space, screw distance. 

She stumbles into Quinn's room noisily and climbs into bed and Quinn is turned away from her, so Rachel presses herself right against her and spoons her.

"Goldberg -"

"Quinn," Rachel warns. 

Quinn turns in Rachel's arms but doesn't move out of the embrace. Rachel can practically hear her contemplating and before she can say anything, Rachel cups Quinn's face. She feels the other woman stiffen but she needs to do this. Her thumbs trace Quinn's forehead, finding it smooth and injury free. She lets out the breath she's been holding.

"Rachel -" Quinn tries again.

"Please," Rachel pleads.

There's a pause before Rachel feels Quinn's lips on hers. Rachel can hear her heartbeat in her ears and her whole body turns to warm mush as Quinn pushes Rachel backward into the bed and presses the length of her body against hers.

Rachel's hands find her way to Quinn's legs, slowly moving up and tucking her hands underneath the slip she's wearing, her fingers ghosting over the older woman's ass and then up her back. Quinn shifts her position so her leg presses right up against Rachel's center.

With a moan, Rachel's hands move to Quinn's front and she gropes at her breasts expertly, loving the breathy little sounds she gets in reward.

Quinn's hands find her way into the panties Rachel constantly wears to bed to find her soaking wet. Already.  Rachel can't find it in her to be embarrassed, not when Quinn's fingers are sliding over her slit and pressing down on her clit just so.

Her fingers tease Rachel with finesse and smooth movements that have her panting into Quinn's mouth. Quinn shucks Rachel's panties further down her legs and Rachel eventually kicks them off.

Two of Quinn's fingers circle her opening before sinking in and Rachel lets out a loud moan, arching her hips into Quinn's hand. 

Quinn's mouth finds Rachel's neck and she adds a third finger, moving them quickly, sucking on Rachel's skin. 

Rachel's whole body is on fire and her mind is hazy, because Quinn is  _really_ good at this and this is exactly what she needs. Especially as Quinn's fingers move quickly inside of her and her teeth graze the skin of Rachel's neck.

All it takes is Quinn to bite down, a bit too hard, for Rachel to come with a shout around her fingers. Quinn doesn't stop her movements, not for a second. In fact, Quinn's tongue lavs the spot her teeth have just marked.

Rachel comes down from her high, her breath coming out quickly, and Quinn frees her fingers and flops down beside her. She licks her fingers clean, eyebrows risen, and Rachel feels a hot feeling rush through her entire body.

Honestly, Rachel has never seen anything more sexy than a disheveled Quinn King. And she needs to have her.  _Now._

"Can I..." Rachel starts, but Quinn's already pulling her on top of her. "Okay, then." She smiles against Quinn's lips before she moves her lips down, nipping at the skin as she goes. She moves the strap of her slip down her shoulder and bites at her collarbone, causing Quinn to moan in a way that puts her fantasies to shame. She moves down further and she frees one of her breasts from the fabric, her lips closing over a nipple.

Quinn arches her body further toward Rachel's mouth and the younger woman bites down softly, enough that Quinn lets out another moan. 

"Goldberg, if you don't fuck me right now I swear," Quinn growls, and as much as Rachel wants to know the rest of the threat, she too is anxious. So, she concedes and moves in between Quinn's legs. She spreads her knees, her hand finds its way under the slip.

She presses down on Quinn's clit once before bringing it down to her opening to gather moisture, and she is extremely wet. The fact thatshe, Rachel Goldberg, made Quinn King this wet, turns Rachel on anew. 

"Rachel," Quinn snaps and Rachel rolls her eyes.

She pushes two fingers into Quinn and the woman keens, pressing her hips against her hand, gyrating and grinding to gain friction. It's one of the hottest things Rachel has ever seen. She adds another finger and crooks them just as Quinn did for her and the result is electric. Quinn pulls Rachel down by the shirt and their lips collide, messily sliding against each other. 

Rachel's hand never falters and Quinn's hips keep a steady rhythm with them. Rachel feels Quinn's inner muscles tightening around her fingers and she lets her thumb brush against her clit until Quinn is shaking and shattering in her arms.

Quinn's head is thrown back, just like in her dream, but the reality is so much better. She lets out a moan that could easily make Rachel come again if she repeats the noise, and her hips twitch as her orgasm subsides.

Rachel moves off of Quinn and they lay side by side, their shoulders touching. Rachel wipes her hand on the inside of her shirt.

"If I knew you were that good at that, Goldie, this would have happened years ago." 

Rachel snickers but doesn't reply but Quinn turns and looks at her for a long moment before asking, "why exactly did we just have grief sex?"

"It's almost frightening that you know that it was grief sex," Rachel says with a sigh. "I have these nightmares. Bad ones. Tonight's was... worse." 

Quinn rolls onto her side so she can look at Rachel. Rachel turns her head to meet her gaze. "You were a pussy after I kissed you," she muses. 

"Charming, Quinn," Rachel mumbles.

"What? You were." Quinn shrugs.

"We need to fire Jeremy. Like, tomorrow. As my mom would say, he's a trigger or some shit." 

Quinn snorts. "Now that's something I'd want on tape." 

Rachel gives a small laugh but doesn't say anything, and they lay in companionable silence.

"I'm here for a grief fuck if you need it, Goldberg." 

In Quinn speak, that means,  _I love you, you know that right?_

So, Rachel replies, "yeah, I know. Weirdo" 

And in Rachel speak, that means,  _I love you too._

 


End file.
